


Morning Glory

by TMirai



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Gay Male Character, M/M, Pre-Canon, Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMirai/pseuds/TMirai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memorials can take different and very personal forms. Gabriel shares with Jack how he has remembered fallen loved ones, and a question makes him reflect on his fear of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Glory

**Author's Note:**

> I am quite obsessed with the connection between Reaper and Soldier: 76, who were both recruited into Overwatch while serving together in an experimental soldier enhancement program and, canonly, were very close friends. They share a lot of history, and while both characters are compelling as their current incarnations and aliases, the mysterious circumstances and possible facets of their relationship are interesting to think about. I have no hesitation with saying I ship them so hard, but more so their past selves. The idea of how such a relationship began when they were young soldiers, developed into a strong and complimentary partnership, and eventually crumbled is fascinating (and sexy) to explore.

“What’s…this one?”

The gentle pressure on Gabriel’s back moved, traveling a short distance across his spine to the space just beneath his left shoulder blade.

“Mmm, a dahlia.” His voice was husky and low with lethargy. “For my cousin Diana. She had colon cancer.”

The responding hum was dubious. “What about…this one?”

Calloused fingers drew a slow path downward over the shallow hills and valleys of Gabriel’s muscles. He shuddered from the electric prickle they left behind and the flush of heat that followed. “A rose. For Alejandra,” he replied.

“Ah, that’s right…” There was a tinge of melancholy in Jack’s quiet voice, but Gabriel could hear the smile in his next words. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, and not just guessing?”

Gabriel arched a brow, but his eyes remained closed. “Don’t you know what a rose looks like?”

“Tch, hardly. My folks raised animals, not flowers,” Jack snickered. His fingers were still tracing the shape of the bloom tattooed on the man’s brown skin. “Momma had a garden, but it was mostly vegetables. And I wasn’t allowed anywhere near it.”

“Mmm.” Taking in a slow breath that made his chest swell, Gabriel undulated lazily in a head to toe stretch. Jack’s bulk shifted to accommodate him, and he felt the cool chill of the dark room caress over his moist skin where their bodies had been pressed together. As soon as Gabriel sank into the cot again and went still, Jack’s comforting warmth and weight settled into the small space against his side.

“Did it hurt?” Jack asked. His palm smoothed over the dark lines and faded colors, caressing from just beneath Gabriel’s collar to the curve of his lower back. The calavera took up the center, intricately rendered with looping swirls and patterns around its eyes and grinning mouth. The bouquet of flowers that framed the skull and sprouted from its eye sockets were tattooed with hyperrealistic skill, each blossom distinctly different. It was jokingly that Jack had asked Gabriel if he could identify them all by touch alone. He wasn’t aware the flowers truly had names.

“No, not really,” he answered, familiar enough with Jack’s body that was aware the other man had never experienced being tattooed.

Jack snickered, and kissed the rose before his fingers continued their slow perusal of his ink. “Liar.”

Lying on his belly, his head resting in the crook of his folded arms, Gabriel acutely felt the shape and texture of his lover’s mouth with every peck. The heavy quiet of his private quarters was comfortable, but amid the lingering heat and energy of sex there was now a thin veil of sadness. Gabriel took another deep breath, and his foot rubbed affectionately against Jack’s legs tangled with his own.

“My grandmother grew flowers,” the soldier said after a long pause. “Her house looked like a damn jungle in the middle of the city. Big trees and lots of flowers all year round, even during the droughts. The inside was filled with plants too. Me and my sisters and cousins spent pretty much every day there, playing pretend like we were warriors or explorers.”

Turning his head to rest his chin on his forearm, Gabriel’s dark eyes opened to sleepy, low slits. “We were always helping with planting and weeding and all of that. That’s what we did every day after school. And if we didn’t complain, my grandfather would take us down the street to the bakery and we’d get sweets. When we got older, we didn’t even expect to be rewarded. It was just a thing we knew we had to do.”

The silence returned, warmer and calm, draped over their naked bodies pressed together so close there was barely a seam between them. He could hear the rhythmic tempos of Jack’s heart and breathing against his back; besides that, there was only the distant hum of the air conditioner and the hiss of Jack’s fingers tracing the flowers for each beloved woman lost in the Reyes family. So far there were seven.

“Which one is for your grandmother?” Jack’s tone was as tender as his touch. His fingers moved to the flower blooming from the skull’s left eye. “This one?”

Gabriel’s eyes slipped closed. “Yeah. The marigold.”

“Wish I could have met her. And Alejandra.”

His lips curved into a smirk before he could help himself. “Abuela would have loved you. Alejandra…she wasn’t so sure about me fuckin’ around with someone in my squad. Especially not some white farm boy from nowhere. But I think she was warming up to the idea of you. A little.”

Jack laughed. “You mean not at all.”

“Nah. Not at all.”

They both chuckled, and Gabriel felt the puffs of breath against his flesh before Jack’s lips continued their adoration of his back. A hum rumbling in his chest, he felt himself beginning to drift off.

“What flower would I be?”

Gabriel’s head immediately lifted, swiveling to glare over his shoulder. The involuntary reaction was reproachful enough to make Jack laugh thinly. “Hey, don’t look at me like that.” He was grinning, but he seemed to have realized his misstep; his eyes were apologetic. “You’re tellin’ me we haven’t gotten to that level of seriousness yet?”

Gabriel’s gaze fell and he pursed his lips. Death was inevitable for all men and made them equal, his grandfather taught him. Death was a blessing and let people appreciate life, his grandmother often said. These were some of the earliest and first life lessons he could remember. It was why he was never afraid of death, even as a boy. It was all around him: in the figures of Santa Muerte in his grandparents’ house, in the icons and imagery of sacred holidays like Dia de los Muertos, and in the streets of Los Angeles. His family was large, and many of them were, or rather had been, elderly or just met with unfortunate circumstances. His older sister Alejandra and several cousins, aunts, and uncles served in military combat roles. Death was familiar to them. Perhaps this was the reason he found the life of a soldier–of a killer–easy and comfortable.

That did not mean he wanted to imagine Jack Morrison immortalized on his skin as another flower. That did not mean it was easy to confront the eventuality of his death.

Jack’s heavy sigh cut through the long, awkward silence, and the weight of his body shifted away. “Gabe–”

“A morning glory.”

Jack paused, gawking at him, and Gabriel lifted his eyes to meet his lover’s gaze. He was smiling in that way that made his heart ache. “Yeah? What do those look like?”

Laying his head on his forearms, Gabriel drew in a deep breath and hummed. “Mmm. Kinda like blue trumpets.”

“I see.” Jack’s body lowered, spooning against the other soldier again. His front writhed sensually on his back, buttocks, and the thick swell of Gabriel’s thigh.  “And where would you put it? Here?”

Gabriel’s skin goose-pimpled under warm, moist breath and soft lips just below the curve of his ribcage. “Mm. No. Lower,” he replied in a throaty purr.

Jack’s quiet chuckle against the base of his spine sent an electric current right to his brain, and his body twitched reflexively. “Here?”

The kiss between the dimples of his lower back left him hissing through his teeth. He undulated restlessly, heat beginning to flush below his navel. “Lower.”

Jack clucked his tongue. “Fine. What about here?”

The smack of lips against his buttock was loud, and Gabriel snorted. “Yeah, I think that’d be a good place for it,” he replied with a teasing grin.

Laughing, Jack lifted himself up to glower at his lover. “Asshole!”

“Not that low. That just sounds painful.”

It was Jack’s hand that smacked against Gabriel’s ass next, and the resulting sound was much louder. “Ay! What the fuck?” Gabriel pushed himself up on his hands, eyes narrowed wolfishly. Jack looked all too pleased with his retaliation, but when Gabriel reached forward to yank him down onto the cot, he did not resist.

After a brief, lazy tussling match, both men were panting softly and tangled together again. Gabriel pressed his forehead against Jack’s. “You won’t need a flower,” he murmured in the small space between their faces. “Not as long as I’m by your side.”

Jack smiled, fingers curling tightly against the blossoms and names memorialized in Gabriel’s skin. “I’m holding you to that, Gabe,” he said, and kissed him.


End file.
